


Trees are Tricky Things

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: A Dog's Breakfast, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Yuletide, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Marilyn are getting married, and Patrick finds his own happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trees are Tricky Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dkwilliams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/gifts).



> This story was written for dkwilliams in the 2007 yultide exchange. Thank you to sherrold and movies_michelle for their beta work.

Standing on the deck of his house and looking over the remains of his backyard, Patrick desperately wished he hadn't agreed to host the reception. There were tables and flowers everywhere, with a huge white tent down by the lake. While clearly very picturesque, Patrick was concerned that the spiders he'd carefully coxed into the terrarium his sister had given him wouldn't like his house anymore, given all the pruning and painting and repairing that had been done to get everything ready. Patrick wasn't sure that he liked it anymore himself. It felt odd, like his house didn't belong to him, all evidence of Mom and Dad erased.

 

Mars loved it of course. The fickle dog loved everything, except for brushing his teeth. Patrick was seriously considering finding himself a new best friend.

 

"Patrick, there you are," Ryan said, tugging on his arm and leading him down to the reception proper. He was still being wonderful to Patrick, even after that nearly disastrous almost first date that he'd gone on with Ryan's sister, Elise. Even Marilyn had agreed that it was better, maybe, if Patrick didn't try seeing her again. Ever.

 

Well, except for the wedding, of course. And maybe Christmas. Possibly the family reunions. Oh, maybe-- Patrick tripped over a clump of dirt and landed in the flower bed, narrowly avoiding breaking his leg, he was sure.

 

"Oh, dear," Ryan said, helping Patrick up and trying to brush the worst of the dirt off. "There, that should do it. You look fine." He shoved Patrick down the hill and closer to the tent. Patrick was afraid he was going to trip again and definitely break his leg, but Ryan was determined, ignoring his comments to slow down as they strode toward the main tent.

 

"Look, there's Elsie," Patrick said, catching sight of Ryan's sister as they got to more level ground. She was dressed in a beautiful orange taffeta bridesmaid's dress that made her skin a gorgeous shade of yellow, almost like a buttercup after it bloomed in the spring, just when the petals started to wither and die, and she was talking to some guy in an Air Force uniform. "Why don't I go over and say hello?"

"Why don't you don't?" Ryan muttered, tightening his grip on Patrick's elbow; Patrick squeaked in response.

 

"But she's talking to--someone." Patrick flailed an arm toward where Elsie was standing.

"She's talking to the Air Force adviser on my series."

"There's an Air Force adviser on Starcrossed?" Patrick glared at where Mr. Air Force uniform was dishing up a plate of strangely snot-colored sauerkraut and handing it to Elsie.

"Well, no, not really. His cousin works in accounting, so he stops in on occasion and answers a few questions. That's as close to an actual adviser as we need to get."

"He's...very nice," Patrick said hastily. If you liked Air Force uniforms, which Patrick didn't like. At all. "I'll just go over and mention how nice it is that he came."

"You will not." Ryan grabbed his arm again. "I need a favor."

"A favor. From me?" Patrick glanced around hurriedly, and dropped his voice to a low whisper so no one would hear him. "I...I don't do murders anymore. I gave that up."

"No, not a murder, you--" Ryan gave a huge sigh. "Elsie likes the nice Air Force major, and wants to talk with him for a bit."

"So? She's talking with him." Patrick glanced around the tent, which he hadn't really spent any time in earlier. The lack of walls made him a little nervous. "Oh! Are those tiny sausages? Mars would really like some of those."

"Patrick," Ryan said, his voice sharp at first, but softening quickly into an oily tone. "He came here with his cousin, and his cousin wants to leave. So if you could just talk to the cousin for a bit, give Elsie some time to chat with the nice major...what do you say?"

"I like the balloons, too. Do you think I can have some? How long do they stay inflated?"

"Come on, Patrick, please?"

Ryan never said please. This had to be a really big favor. Patrick hung his head and nodded. "Since you asked so nice."

"Great," he said, and slapped Patrick on the back, almost making him tip over. "His cousin's name is Frances, Frances Sheppard. But I think he goes by Frank."

"Frank," Patrick said. "I'm not really sure I should be that familiar..."

"It'll be fine," he said, dragging Patrick by the tent and shoving him toward the fountain of punch. "He doesn't get out much, so you have loads of things in common. He studies spiders."

"Ohh, spiders," Patrick said, feeling momentarily more enthused. "I have them in the terrarium." He hitched a thumb toward the house. "I could go get them and--"

"Patrick, no!" Ryan barked. "We agreed that you would keep the spiders inside the house remember?" Ryan's smile was tight enough that his cheek started to twitch. "Just go over there and say hello, all right? And stay away from my sister!"

Frank wasn't nearly as lovely as Elsie. He wore a brown suit that had a big mustard stain on the lapel, and a green stripped shirt that was nicely pressed--the collar had to have stays in it to get to lay right. He also wore the thickest horn-rimmed glasses Patrick had ever seen. Frank poured himself a glass of punch from the fountain, sliding behind it slightly so he was hard to see.

Patrick envied him the spot.

Taking a deep breath, Patrick stepped forward. "Hello."

Frank looked at him and made a face as he swallowed his drink.

Patrick cleared his throat. And cleared it again. And again, to give himself time to think.

Frank handed him a glass of water. "Here," he said. "You sound a little hoarse."

"I hear you like spiders," Patrick blurted out. "I have some. They used to live under the eaves, until Marilyn decided she wanted to have the reception here. Then I had to move them to a terrarium, but I can move them back after. I'm not sure they like it in there."

Frank pressed his nose between the fingers of his right hand, mashing his glasses against his face.

"Oh! Do you have a headache? I could get you something. Water? Aspirin? Tylenol with Codeine? I hear that's hard to come by in America."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm not American. I just...I'm not good at talking to people." Frank waved his hand in front of his face. "That's why I was standing here, so I wouldn't have to talk."

"Do you want me to go away?"

"Yes."

Patrick turned to leave, and caught sight of Ryan shaking his head at him. With a sigh--would this day never end?--he turned back to Frank. "Sorry, I can't leave."

Frank ignored him and started sorting the mints into tiny, color based piles. It looked like fun, so Patrick joined him. They got through all of them on the punch table--having to steal some out of the hands of the philistines that tried to actually eat them--and were standing next to each other contemplating the ones on the cake table when Frank finally spoke. "Listen, I brought my laptop. I'm much better in email than I am in person."

"Me, too!" Patrick said, warming to the subject. "My friend Chris met me once, and said he liked me better in email."

"You think maybe anyone would notice if I set my laptop up someplace? Does the reception have wireless?"

"No, but the house does."

"Can I go in?" Frank asked, looking up at Patrick's place. "Do you think the owner would mind?"

"Well, would you mind taking off your shoes? I don't want to get dirt in the house. Of course, Mars, my dog, brings in dirt, but he's a dog, and I couldn't get him to wear the dog booties anyway." He drifted off in thought. Frank liked spiders and computers. Maybe he bought things off ebay. In fact, maybe he'd bought a table from Patrick a long time ago, and their meeting today was pure destiny. This chance encounter would lead to them falling in love, and then Frank would move in, and he'd bring the coffee table back with him, back where it belonged.

Destiny would explain so many things. "Do you like dogs?" Patrick asked abruptly. It was the make or break question. He would battle destiny itself if Frank didn't like dogs.

Frank's brow furrowed in a most attractive fashion. "I think so?" he said. "I think I had a neighbor that had a dog once."

"Good, then you can come into the house." Patrick took Frank's arm and carefully escorted him over the rough ground. "Watch your step," he said as he got to where he'd nearly slid into the tree earlier. It would be horrible if his soon-to-be partner got hurt before the falling in love part. "The trees are tricky around here."

Spiky black hair falling into his face, Frank nodded solemnly, his hazel eyes sparking behind his thick glasses. "I know what you mean."

The End


End file.
